The Various Misadventures of Casey and Derek
by Lady Liln
Summary: Casey is sleeping with Derek. But not quite in the way you'd think...full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1: Sunday

**A/N: Okay, long and hopefully not too confusing author's note coming up. Take two, since the stupid computer had a meltdown after I wrote the first one.**

**A friend of mine was reading over my LWD fanfiction (none of which is on this site yet...I'm workin on it) and pointed out that it was pretty much all Dasey fluff/romance. Duh, I said. Dasey is teh awesome. People love Dasey. I love Dasey. Then she told me she didn't think I could write anything LWD without converting it into Dasey or including Dasey in some way. That's when my inner Derek--or Casey, really--came out, and I said bring it on.**

**Which is how I ended up with a couple of prompts (she's still working on more) that lend themselves so easily to Dasey it's killing me. As in, these prompts are most definitely Dasey prompts, straight out, more than just implications. And apparently I had to de-Dasify them. Which I did pretty successfully, twisting the prompts around. But can I help it if a little shippiness crept in between the lines? ;)**

**Okay, nearly done here. These prompts were originally supposed to be just a bunch of one-shots, but when I got started on the first I couldn't stop so I broke it into six parts. The rest of the prompts will follow. First prompt is this: _Casey is sleeping with Derek._**

**Disclaimer: If you don't know what goes here, you've obviously only been reading fanfiction for the time it takes to click on this link.**

* * *

Sunday 

"Der-_ek_!"

The screech from above, so familiar to them all, did not even cause members of the McDonald-Venturi clan to look up from their dinner. They chewed complacently as Casey came thundering down the stairs, dragging a bed sheet behind her.

"What is this?!" she demanded, storming up to the dinner table and waving a fistful of sheet so close to Derek's face he went cross-eyed.

"A sheet?" he said mildly, leaning his chair back on two legs and casually taking a sip of his water.

"A sheet drenched in _maple syrup_!" Lizzie, who had been drinking from her glass, snorted involuntarily and choked. Always helpful, Edwin pounded her on the back a bit harder than was really necessary. "I turned the comforter down," Casey continued angrily, "and the sheets underneath were soaked and sticky! My sheets, my pillows, my _mattress_." With each item she listed she poked him hard in the chest with her finger, until his chair tilted back too far and, despite his wild attempts to grab Casey's arm, he was sent crashing to the floor. His water glass soared up in a spectacular arc and dumped its contents all over him, adding insult to injury.

"Oh no." Nora buried her face in her hands while Lizzie, Edwin, Marti and Casey laughed at Derek on the floor. "Are you all right, Derek?"

"You were doing so well!" cried George exasperatedly as Derek climbed to his feet, shaking his wet hair like a puppy. "No major pranks for at least two weeks, and now this?" Derek righted his chair, rubbing his arm as though it were bruised.

"He was probably stocking up on maple syrup," Casey glared at her stepbrother, who shrugged and smirked, even while trying to wring out his soggy polo.

"Put your sheets in the wash, Casey. I'll get you some new ones from the linen closet for tonight," Nora said, getting up from the table. Casey shook her head.

"It soaked right through to the _mattress_, Mom. We don't have an extra one of those lying in the linen closet. And I think my sheets will need dry-cleaning."

"You're paying for that," George firmly told Derek, who rolled his eyes.

"Well then," Nora said, "you're just going to have to sleep in Lizzie's room tonight."

"Where will _I _sleep, then?" Lizzie demanded.

"You'll sleep in your bed, of course."

"My bed's not big enough for both of us! And this is no longer Christmas and I'm through being manipulated, so I'm not going to sleep in the camp bed in my own room this time." She stuck her tongue out at Casey, still holding a grudge from being guilt-tripped over Christmas.

"Oh, the camp bed," George groaned. "I'll have to pull that from all the junk in the garage."

"Okay, so Casey will sleep on the camp bed—"

"Wait," Casey interrupted. "Why should I have to sleep on the hard, dirty camp bed for something that is clearly not my fault? If anyone should have to, it's Derek."

"Good idea, Case," George said, turning to his eldest son, who was attempting to slink upstairs unnoticed. "Derek can sleep on the camp bed."

"Hey!" said Derek.

"But where will I sleep?" asked Casey.

"Lizzie, are you _sure_ there isn't room in your bed?" said Nora.

"Positive. I have nothing to do with this. I'm not sleeping in anything but my own bed tonight. Which is only big enough for one, if you haven't caught that already."

"I am not going to sleep in the camp bed!" Derek said.

"Fine, then you'll sleep on the couch," George said. "It'll save me from having to dig through the garage. And Casey can sleep in your bed."

"What?!" yelled Derek.

"Ewww," Casey said. "Derek's bed? Is there really no other option?"

"Sorry, Case," Nora said. "Only for a little while, while we see if we can get the mattress cleaned. Or buy a new one."

"No! I refuse to sleep on the couch!" spluttered Derek.

"Then you can sleep on the floor!" George practically shouted at him.

"I'll wash Derek's sheets tonight before you go to bed," Nora assured Casey.

"Ugh…Derek's bed in Derek's room with Derek in it, thanks to…Derek." Casey sank onto the couch, looking disgusted.

"I _cannot_ sleep on the floor," Derek said after a few seconds of utter speechlessness.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight, Daddy?" Marti asked.

"No, Marti. Derek, you're on the floor for the week; it's your own fault. Casey, sorry about this, Derek will try to make your stay as pleasant as possible…won't you, Derek?" George said, looking at Derek menacingly.

"Whatever," Derek muttered.

* * *

Casey was sitting up in Derek's bed later that night, ready for bed, relishing in the freshly laundered sheets and reading a book by the light of the bedside table lamp. She looked up when Derek entered the room and slammed the door behind him. 

"Trying to sneak the camp bed out of the garage?" she asked knowingly, smiling condescendingly.

"A croquet mallet fell on my head and I gave up," Derek admitted grumpily, walking over to the mirror to observe the bump on his head and pulling a cobweb out of his hair.

"Pity," she said without a trace of it.

Her head snapped up after a few minutes of silence.

"Stop that," she said, suddenly nervous but trying not to show it.

"Stop what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side innocently.

"Looking at me like that. I know what you're thinking. And if you try to remove me from this bed by bodily force it will be the worst decision you've ever made. And that's saying something."

Derek's shoulders slumped and he stopped looking at her like he was debating whether to push her off a cliff or strangle her with his bare hands in order to get his bed back.

"George set up the sleeping bag on the floor," she said cheerfully. He sullenly began rolling it out.

"You know," she remarked after a few moments of watching him do this, "have you realized that when you pull things like this, you just end up hurting yourself? Like when you hid all my clothes and I had to wear _yours_ to school. Or now, when you ruined my bed and now I get yours."

"Yeah, "Derek muttered, "but I only have one bed. I've got plenty of _clothes_."

"I wonder what's next?" Casey said thoughtfully. "I've always liked your computer; do you think you could break mine?" Derek didn't deign to respond, and Casey returned to her book with a slight smile.

When she finally drifted off to sleep that night, Casey was the most comfortable in bed she'd been in ages. Derek's bed was very warm and soft, and she breathed the scent of the clean sheets deeply. It wasn't as familiar as her room, but knowing Derek was right there on the floor was oddly comforting to her.

* * *

Midnight. The illuminated red numbers on the alarm clock combined with the moonlight coming in through the partially-closed blinds over the window lit up Derek's bedroom just enough so he could see the dark outline of the bed, looking like a big fuzzy black lump. He could hear Casey's deep, even breathing and knew she was asleep. He rolled over on the floor for the millionth time that night, not truly believing the floor could possibly be this hard and uncomfortable. And yet it was. 

He listened to Casey's breathing for a few minutes more, still wide awake, before he thought of an idea. Slowly, and very quietly, he climbed out of his sleeping bag and grabbed the edge of the bed to pull himself into kneeling position. Still being as silent as he could, he stood up and walked around to the right side of the bed, trying to avoid the hard-to-see junk scattered across the floor.

Casey was sleeping in the middle of the bed, a bit more to the side nearest the door. Ever so carefully, he reached over and gently pushed her more towards the door. She shifted as he did, and he froze—but she didn't wake up. Hardly daring to breathe, he pulled the covers back a fraction of an inch and crawled beneath them, keeping well to the left side of the bed. Feeling much more comfortable, he breathed a sigh of relief and drifted right off to dreamland.


	2. Chapter 2: Monday

Monday

Sunlight warmed Casey's eyelids, and she smiled contentedly as she awoke. Really, the whole thing with the maple syrup had worked remarkably well. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well. She was still warm and comfortable and the comforter was pulled up to her chin and she was lying on her right side, facing the door, and somebody's arm was draped across her middle from behind.

Wait. What?

Casey bolted up in bed. Derek's arm fell limply into her lap, and she looked down at him lying next to her in shock.

"Derek!" she hissed. "What are you _doing_?"

"Five more minutes, Mom," Derek mumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

"I am not your mother!" Casey whisper-yelled. "What are you doing in your bed?"

"Now there's a question I don't get much." Derek seemed to be waking up a little, although his eyes were still shut.

"Der-_ek_." She shook his shoulder until he opened one eye a tiny bit and glared at her.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to sleep here."

"You're supposed to be sleeping on the floor!" she said, raising her voice from a whisper-shout to a murmur-shout. "How did you end up in here?"

"Um…" Derek turned over, facing away from her. "Sleepwalked?"

"You just can't take your punishment," she said, glaring daggers at his back. "You can't take one night of sleeping on the floor because of something you did—"

"Do you always talk this much in the morning?" Derek interrupted her.

"Ugh!" Casey threw back the covers and got out of bed. "Fine. I'm going to go brush my teeth. But tonight you're staying on the floor and keeping your arms to yourself! I am not a teddy bear!" She stormed out of the room.

Little did she know he was asleep from the time she'd said "ugh".

* * *

"Today in Sociology we will be studying how people act differently in different environments," said Ms. Martinez later that day, pacing in front of the class. Derek slumped in his seat, already wishing the barely-begun period was over. "Last week we covered _code-switch_, the way we talk to different people. Who can give me a recap of last week's topic?"

Casey's hand, as usual, shot straight into the air before most people had time to blink. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Casey."

"Code-switching is the different vocabulary we use in the presence of different people. For instance, you would talk differently to the Prime Minister than you would to an employee at Burger King. You're more formal to your teacher than with your friends. You use simpler words and shorter sentences if you're talking to a kindergartener or Derek Venturi."

Ouch.

"Very good, Casey," Ms. Martinez said over the students' laughter. "This week we will be looking at how people act—that includes talking, reactions, actions—not with different people, but in different _places_. Derek," she said sharply, cutting into his boredom. "Do you react to things differently while playing hockey than you would at a restaurant?"

"Yeah…" Derek said, feeling this was the answer she wanted to hear.

"And why is that, do you think? Are your reactions based on your feelings in those places? This isn't psychology, remember, but the two sciences are inextricably linked."

"Um," Derek said, not exactly sure what he was supposed to say here.

"For instance, do you feel adrenaline on the ice rink that makes you react to situations differently? Do you feel comfortable with your friends and safe in your bed?"

"Not exactly," Derek said, thinking of last night. "After all, the bed is always susceptible to being invaded by outsiders."

The class and teacher were left in confusion as Casey turned slowly in her seat and glared at Derek. He smirked.

* * *

"Mom!" Casey called before the front door was completely closed behind her. "Mom?"

"Yes, Casey, what is it?" Nora said, rushing out of the kitchen. "Where's the emergency?"

"Did you buy a new mattress yet?" Casey asked urgently.

"Oh." Nora let out a big breath. "I thought it was something important!"

Casey raised her eyebrows.

"I mean…oh, sorry, honey," Nora said. "No, we didn't. But we took it into the dry cleaners and they told us there was actually a way they could clean it!"

"By when?"

"Next week."

"You expect me to sleep in Derek's bed for a _week_? Tell me you're not serious!"

"I'm sorry, honey, but it's cheaper just to get it cleaned than to buy a new one…"

"Who cares? Derek's paying, isn't he?"

"Now, Casey…"

"Oh, whatever," Casey said grumpily. "Can't we just let Derek have the camp bed? I know his punishment is supposed to be sleeping on the floor and all…but hasn't he suffered enough?"

"Okay, first of all, I know perfectly well you're not begging for the camp bed for _Derek's_ sake. Second, I lent the camp bed to a friend."

"You did _what_?"

"Well, AnnaMarie was telling me that her mother was coming to visit and how stressed she was because they didn't have an extra bed, so I sort of lent her ours for two weeks."

"I don't believe it!" Casey said in a high-pitched voice. She stomped upstairs.

* * *

"'Ello, Princesss!" Derek said, bounding into Casey's room at about ten that night. "I'm going to bed in a minute. You coming?" He paused. "Okay, that sounded really weird…"

"What's got you so chipper?" she said, still cranky.

"Me? Nothing, nothing. I'm just feeling particularly well-rested." He winked at her. She turned away in annoyance.

"I'll be right there," she said. "Just give me a minute to change into my nightclothes."

"As you wish, Space Case," he said, walking away.

"Derek!" He was back in her doorway a second later.

"What?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Why don't you sleep on the floor of my room tonight, instead? Or in the living room? Or Edwin's room? Or the couch?"

"Why don't you?" She glared at him. "Sorry, Case, but I really don't sleep well outside my room. So either you leave, or we're still roomies."

She entered his room five minutes later, in her pajamas and clutching an extra blanket, to find Derek already on the bed.

"Rats," he said, making an exaggerated show of rolling off the bed and falling onto the floor. "I was hoping you'd go with the couch."

"Not a chance," she sniffed, climbing beneath the covers he had just vacated. "I deserve to sleep in a bed."

"Princess," he muttered. She pretended like she hadn't heard. Sighing, Derek crawled back into his sleeping bag and Casey turned off the lamp.

She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a rustle beside her. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up.

"Der-_ek_!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down."

Casey flipped the lamp on again. "What are you _doing_?"

"Being tormented by my step-sister while trying to sleep in my own bed? Now, if you don't mind, it's a school night. I need my rest." He leaned over her and turned the lamp off again. She turned it back on.

"Get. Out." she said. He groaned and sank back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. "Get out now!"

"Mmph," he said, snuggling deeper under the covers.

"Derek! We can't both sleep in here! And Mom and George said I could have your bed this week, if you didn't notice, because it's _your_ fault I have no bed anyway! So you need to get out and back into your sleeping bag!" She was answered with a light, obviously faked, snore.

"Fine! You won't get off? I'll make you!" This time he snorted.

"Get…out…now!" she grunted, pushing on his back. She hadn't realized he was quite so heavy before. But when he didn't want to move, he obviously couldn't be moved easily.

"Caaaasey, stop," he mumbled, tired of her shoving him.

"I will not stop until you get off!" With a final shove, he tumbled off the side of the bed.

"Thanks a lot," he said from the ground, his voice muffled.

"No problem," she said, trying on his signature smirk, before turning the lights off and lying back down.

Ten minutes later he was back again. Knowing it wasn't worth the effort, she just let him be.


	3. Chapter 3: Tuesday

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! They really make my day...and encourage me to update faster! I'm sorry for the length of this chapter; it's rather short, but I think the next chapter will make up for it!**

**Disclaimer: The person who was supposed to fly out and tell me that I had won the lottery, gotten discovered by a major Hollywood director, won the rights to LWD, became the queen of England and started to date Orlando Bloom all in the same way died in a tragic blimp accident over New York City. So I guess I'll never know, will I?**

* * *

Tuesday

"Good morning, Casey," Nora said the next morning, pouring her eldest daughter a glass of orange juice. "Did you sleep well?" Casey opened her mouth, fully intending to make a demeaning remark about Derek, who was sitting next to her at the breakfast island. Then she closed her mouth, looking surprised.

"Actually…yes," she said.

"I know I did," Derek said, winking at her. She kicked his leg in a way she hoped was painfully hard. His answering yelp assured her that it was.

"I talked to the dry-cleaning people, and they said your mattress should be ready for pick-up by Friday," Nora told her. "So you only need to sleep in Derek's bed for three more nights."

"Joy," Derek muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

Emily was waiting by Casey's locker when Casey got to school half an hour later.

"Hey, Em," Casey said. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Emily said, stifling a yawn. "God, I'm so tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Casey said sympathetically, opening her locker and getting out her books. "Why?"

"I dunno," said Emily, slumping against the lockers. "I just haven't been sleeping well lately. I've been tossing and turning and when I wake up it feels like I've been sleeping all of five minutes. I don't know why, but it's exhausting." She half-closed her eyes. "And it doesn't help that you're looking so refreshed this morning, either," she went on, glancing sideways at Casey. "What gives?"

"Me? Nothing. I've just been sleeping really well lately, for some reason. Ever since I started sleeping with Derek."

Emily gaped at her.

"Um…I guess that came out wrong, didn't it?" Casey said, wringing her hands.

"Kinda," Emily said in a strangled voice.

"I didn't mean it like that, honestly," Casey said, closing her locker door. "And if I _did_, you think I'd be getting less sleep, not more." This weak attempt at humor fell flat as Emily continued to stare at her in disbelief. "No, really though, it's like this…"

It took the whole slow walk to English to explain the Maple Syrup Debacle and it's consequences over the last few nights.

"I don't know why," Casey continued, "but I do sleep really well in Derek's room. Maybe I just sleep better with other people there; I'd always sleep better when I was with Lizzie when we were younger or even when I have sleepovers. I guess there's just something comforting to me when I'm not alone, and I sleep better."

"Still," Emily said, shaking her head as they entered English. "There's just no other way to put it. You're _sleeping_ with _Derek_."

"And his arm always ends up around me in the morning too! I know he doesn't mean to, but it's like he just needs to have something to hold on to while he sleeps. Like Edwin told me he slept cuddled up with a teddy bear every night until the day before Mom married George," Casey said, smiling.

"Sleeping with Derek," Emily muttered, shaking her head. "I never thought I'd see the day."

* * *

Derek didn't even try to make a pretense of sleeping on the floor that night. He was in bed when Casey walked in Tuesday night, the sleeping bag rolled up and shoved into a corner of the room.

"Derek," she said. "I've had enough. This isn't funny. Out."

"No," he said simply, continuing to read his magazine without looking up at her.

"Yes. Get out! You're not supposed to be doing this. I'm telling Mom and George."

"Oooh, calling in the authorities," Derek said sarcastically under his breath. "Scary. Tattle."

Casey paused in the doorway. "I won't have to tattle if you just get out," she said, not feeling much hope.

"Not happening," Derek sang, turning a page of his magazine.

"Smerek!" Marti ran in a flurry of purple nightgown past Casey and onto Derek's bed, jumping up and down. "Can I sleep with you and Casey tonight?"

"Sorry, Smarti," Derek said, pulling Marti onto his lap. "We've got full occupancy tonight. Plus, we have to get up loads earlier than you. And you wouldn't want to be woken up at six, would you?"

"No," Marti admitted, pouting.

"I didn't think so. So give me a hug and go to bed."

"Mmkay," Marti conceded, wrapping her arms around Derek's neck and giving him a hug. "Night!" she hopped off the bed and ran out, pausing to hug Casey around the middle before she left.

Casey sighed and closed the door, climbing into bed next to Derek.

"Change of heart?" he asked, smirking.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd have one and leave."

"Vain hope," he said, returning to Sports Illustrated. Casey laid her head down and closed her eyes, keeping close to the edge of the bed and trying to ignore his presence, imagining herself in her own bed in her own room. Three more nights…

She didn't say another word to him, and fairly soon he leaned across her and flipped off the lights.


	4. Chapter 4: Wednesday

**A/N: Well, I told you the next chapter was going to be longer! And here it is. Only two chapters after this. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! More are always appreciated! (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, hint, hint) Okay, you get it.**

**Disclaimer: Oh, yada yada YADA.**

* * *

Wednesday

Derek was all alone when he woke up to the dulcet tones of his beeping alarm clock on Wednesday. Casey's side of the bed was empty and made, the pillow fluffed. Honestly. Who did that?

He was just closing his eyes for a little more rest—Casey always set the alarm clock insanely early; he was sure he had time—when he heard his door being opened.

"Knock much?" he mumbled. He knew right away it was Casey, because the two of them went into each other's rooms so much to yell and argue that they were the only ones in the house who never bothered to knock or to wait for an invite before entering.

"Derek, why aren't you up? You're going to be late for school if you don't come down and have breakfast now."

"You set the alarm clock early. I've got tons of time."

"No, 'early' was half an hour ago when it first went off. When that failed to wake you, I reset it with some extra time for you to sleep, since you never use any time in the mornings to work on a little thing I like to call personal hygiene."

"Huh?" Really, she should know better than to talk to him like that so early in the morning. Casey sighed.

"I let you sleep in so you need to get up now unless you want me to leave without you," she snapped at him, slamming the door on her way out.

"Grump," he said to the door. As he got up and got dressed, he couldn't help but feel a little grateful to her for letting him get some extra sleep. Not that he'd ever admit it.

* * *

"Hey," Emily greeted Casey as she sat down in English. "How was your night with Derek?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Ew. Not funny, Em," Casey said, rolling her eyes. "Disgusting, actually."

"Oh, whatever. You know the situation just begs to be made fun of," Emily said.

"He still refuses to sleep on the floor," Casey sighed. "I'm wondering if I should just do that myself—I can survive two nights on the couch, can't I?"

"Um, Casey? Hate to break it to you, but no, you can't. Remember when we were going to go camping last summer? But then you didn't want to go because you were afraid the ground was going to be too hard? And so then we were going to sleep in my backyard, but that just wouldn't work either, and then the porch, and then the floor, and then the couch—you finally fell asleep on my bed. You are a modern-day princess and the pea."

"Not you too," Casey buried her head in her arms. "Why does everybody call me a princess?"

"Hey, Princess!" Derek called across the room, obviously having heard her complaint. She lifted her head and glared at him, sitting on a desk surrounded by a crowd of friends, wannabes and blondes.

"What, Derek?" she asked, trying to inject as much venom as possible into her words.

"I call the right side of the bed tonight, okay?" he said loudly enough for the whole class to hear. She gaped at him. The classroom at once went silent, some people looking shocked, some amused, some confused, and some just plain scandalized. Derek winked at her, looking as though he was having the time of his life, and Emily was biting hard on her knuckles to keep from bursting into laughter. Then whispers and talking and giggling and gossiping broke out at once. Luckily for Derek, the teacher chose that moment to walk in the class, saving him from a potentially life-threatening situation at the hands of Casey.

"I am going to kill him, I am going to kill him, I am going to kill him," Casey chanted softly under her breath. Emily gave her a rather alarmed look.

"Instead of taking your obvious fury out in a violent way that will in no way solve your problems or cause anything but trouble, perhaps you should pay Paul a visit and get the help and guidance you obviously so desperately need," Emily quipped to Casey when the teacher turned to write something on the blackboard. But Casey gave her a death-glare too, so Emily seemed to hastily decide sibling feuds between Casey and Derek weren't her business, anyway.

The teacher finished with the lesson two minutes before the bell rang, so the students fell back to talking as the teacher graded papers. Judging from the stares and gossip that people didn't seem to care how loudly they spoke—was Derek serious? What does that mean? I thought they _lived_ together, not _slept_ together—Derek's comment was still the talk of the class, and when the bell rang, it'd be the talk of the whole school. People at this school were _way_ too obsessed with the doings of Derek Venturi.

Casey packed her books into her bag and stood up, swinging the bag over her shoulder. She had a determined look on her face and she was staring right at Derek.

"Casey, no—" Emily said, grabbing Casey's arm before she could go anywhere. "Listen, I don't know from experience, but I'm pretty sure that if you go over there and punch Derek in the face it'll go on your permanent record."

Casey shook her off and strode over to Derek, once more holding court amongst his friends, perched on his desk.

"Derek, can I talk to you?" Casey practically growled. He gave her that annoying smirk of his—really, he did it so often, one day his face was going to freeze that way.

"Talk," he invited, leaning back nonchalantly.

"Okay," she said. She saw how it was going to be, and she intended to make the most of it. She put her finger in the middle of his chest like she had done Sunday, when he ended up tipping over. He looked down at it and raised an eyebrow. "One, you are _so dead_ as soon as we get off school property." He chuckled, to show his friends and other curious onlookers how funny he found her threat to be. "And two, you are _so _not getting the right side of the bed tonight. Sorry."

The rest of her hand followed her index finger onto his chest and shoved. Like a domino, Derek lost his balance, went over and fell right off the desk. With a satisfied look and a flick of her hair, Casey walked from the room as the bell rang, leaving a bunch of gossip-loving students behind her, as well as one stepbrother who was on the ground, watching her leave with a look rather reminiscent of the look he wore the time she had ripped off her conservative clothing and starting singing during the Battle of the Bands.

* * *

"Paul!" Casey cried, throwing open the door to room 118 and dramatically throwing herself onto a chair. "I need to talk to you."

"Uh…sure, Casey. What's up?" Paul said, hurriedly taking the last few bites of his bagel and brushing crumbs off his hands.

"Well Derek poured maple syrup on my bed so now I can't sleep there anymore and I have to share with Derek who's supposed to be sleeping on the floor but he's not and he's really annoying me and he basically just told the whole class we're sharing a bed but he made it sound a lot different than it actually is and I kept it together kind of but now I'm absolutely falling apart and I don't know what to do!"

"What?" Paul leaned back in his chair, trying to sort through her rush of an explanation. "Start with the maple syrup. What happened?"

"Derek poured it all over my _bed_. And so now all the sheets and the mattress are at the cleaner's until the mattress gets done on Friday."

"Okay…so how does that lead to you having to share beds with Derek? Isn't there some other sleeping arrangement possible?"

"No," Casey sighed. "Unless I sleep on the floor. Or the couch."

"Well, why don't you do that?"

"Because I'd probably…I don't know…dislocate my spine!"

"Right…and your parents actually approve of you having to share Derek's bed?"

"Well, they think Derek's on the floor."

"And nothing you can say or do will convince him to get off the bed?"

"No," said Casey sullenly. "He says he can't sleep outside his room and the floor's to 'hard'." She made air quotes when she said "hard" and looked disdainful.

"But…isn't that why you're not sleeping on the floor? Because it's too 'hard'?" He mimed her air quotes.

"Yes! But he's a guy. It's his punishment. He's actually been camping. He shouldn't mind."

"Casey…" Paul paused to take a long sip of his coffee, contemplating her seriously over the rim of his mug. "Does he snore?"

"What?" Casey said, confused. "No!"

"Does he hog the sheets? Play loud rock music at midnight? Wet the bed?"

"No…"

"Then what's the big deal? It's only for two more nights, right?"

"But…no…I mean…it's _Derek_."

"Which may be keeping you from noticing that there's really not all that much wrong with the situation, besides the fact that he poured maple syrup on your bed and is disobeying your parents. He's your brother, after all."

"Step," Casey said weakly. "But…"

"Oh, there's the bell," Paul said cheerily, nursing the hot coffee in his hands. "Let me know how it goes, won't you?"

* * *

When Derek entered his room that night, it was Casey-free and the sleeping bag in the corner was missing. He smirked to himself. She was still resisting, but he knew her well enough to know she'd be back soon.

Derek sat on his bed to wait. He was only kept waiting six minutes.

"How do people _stand_ that?" Casey was back, throwing the sleeping bag onto the floor as she slammed the door and mindlessly flopped onto the bed beside him.

"You tried the couch?" he asked. She nodded, leaning back onto his pillows and playing with a loose string on her pajama pants.

"And the floor of my room. I felt like I was lying on concrete."

"Princess," Derek coughed. She shoved him and he fell over, laughing.

"Oh, and as for that _thing_ you pulled today, Venturi…," Casey started menacingly.

"What thing?" Derek said casually. He began to slowly inch away from her. His eyes darted nervously about. Which was closer, the door or the window?

She started to crawl across the bed toward him. He inched more rapidly.

"I can't believe you basically announced to the whole school we were having an incestuous, sexual relationship. You conceited, self-centered, egotistical—"

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Derek? Casey?" came Nora's voice through the wood. "Can I come in?"

The two exchanged panicked looks. He leaped off the bed and scrambled into his sleeping bag, trying to look as though he had been there the whole time. Casey dove under the covers and attempted to look relaxed.

"Come in," Derek called, his voice cracking. Casey sent him a sharp look.

Nora entered the room, carrying a pile of clean laundry.

"I washed some of your clothes, Derek," she said. "Where do you want them?"

Derek waved a general hand. "On the floor somewhere, or something. You can just drop them."

"Why don't I put them on your dresser, okay?" Nora compromised. "And you can put them away later."

"Sure," Derek said, even though they both knew he wouldn't.

"Casey," Nora said, turning toward the bed. Casey sat up straight and tried her best to look innocent, even though technically she had done nothing wrong. "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?"

"Nope!" Casey said. "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm just impressed you and Derek haven't killed each other yet," Nora said, glancing between her two eldest children. They smiled blandly up at her.

"Okay," she said, clearly at a loss as to what was going on and what she should say. "Only for two more nights," she reminded them as she picked her way across Derek's floor back to the hallway. "Goodnight!"

As soon as the door was safely closed behind her, Casey and Derek let out huge breaths.

"I thought she'd never leave," Casey said, despite the fact that her mother had been there all of ninety seconds.

"Yeah," Derek agreed, hoping Nora's visit had distracted Casey from remembering that she was currently supposed to be attempting homicide.

"You really need to clean up in here," Casey commented. She glanced around the room with a look of disgust on her face. "It's like a dump heap. How do you live like this?"

"Very well, thank you," Derek said, jumping back on his bed. "Don't even think about trying to clean it up."

Casey rolled her eyes. "Pig."

"I'm choosing to ignore that," Derek said, settling into the right side of the bed.

He flipped off the lights. For once she didn't protest.


	5. Chapter 5: Thursday

Thursday

Casey woke up feeling very nearly suffocated. It took her slow regain to consciousness to realize what sort of position she was in.

They were both in the middle of the bed, Derek's arms wrapped around her very securely from behind. She was pulled up against his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder. They were both facing the door, and she doubted there was a part of them that wasn't touching. One of his warm hands was actually under her pajama top, resting on her stomach. Thankfully it wasn't too high…or too low…but it was definitely too close for comfort.

Derek was still asleep, taking deep breaths she could feel while so close against his chest. She wiggled slightly, but his hold on her lessened not at all. Getting out of his tight grip would surely require waking him, whether on purpose or accidentally as she struggled to break loose. And _that_ would make for one awkward situation.

Really, there was nothing for it but to pretend she was still asleep, and hope he'd wake up soon. Then he could just let her go and then she could "wake up" and they could pretend this never happened.

* * *

Derek felt like he hadn't felt in nearly a year and a half. Comfortable and safe and happy in his bed. For one wild moment, as he was coming out of that delirious half-asleep stage of waking up, he thought things were back how they used to be: he lived alone with his dad and siblings and a stuffed bear which _no one_ ever saw. 

Then he realized he was not, in fact, nestled up with the Mr. Bear of his youth, but with the stepsister of his nightmares.

He groaned softly. How did he end up in these positions, wrapped so tightly around Casey? He couldn't help what he did while asleep. Figured that his no-Casey-hug policy would end up being violated in his sleep. At least she didn't seem to be awake yet. There was still hope for coming out of this with his dignity intact.

He willed himself to move, but he was always sluggish this early in the morning. He took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling the sweet fragrance of her strawberry-scented shampoo. It smelled so good. His stomach rumbled in hunger.

Very slowly, being careful not to jostle Casey too much, he pulled his arms back so he was no longer hugging her to him. Then he sat up, put a few inches of bed between their bodies, and shook her shoulder to wake her up.

* * *

"Hey, Casey," Emily greeted her at school that morning. "How's the Derek situation coming? Have you murdered him yet?" 

"Oh, whatever," Casey said grumpily. "What good would it do me? I'm not good at murder. And it wouldn't change anything, or stop people from what they're already saying. It's only for one more night, then I'll be back to my own nice Derek-free bed." She shoved her books into her locker with much less care than usual.

"Am I sensing some continued hostility?" Emily guessed. Casey glanced at her, then took a deep breath and let it all out slowly.

"No. I mean, yes, but no." She sighed. "It doesn't really matter. One more night. And really, there's nothing I could do—Derek's just being Derek. That's why I hate him, right?"

"Wrong," Emily said. "You know perfectly well you don't hate him. Dislike him, yes. Get annoyed by him, yes. But not hate. Anyway," she grinned, "I'd say you did a pretty good job of publicly humiliating him yourself. What with the shoving and all."

Casey smiled. "A firm hand," she said. "That's all he really needs."

* * *

"Casey!" Derek called out, finally catching sight of her walking the opposite direction down the hallway. "Hey, wait up!" 

She didn't turn. He sprinted after her, nearly knocking over some freshman as he did.

"Here," he said when he'd finally caught up, falling into step beside her and shoving a brown paper bag into her hands. "Nora accidentally switched our lunches."

She didn't answer, or give any indication that she had heard him. She just continued walking, eyes straight ahead.

"Casey? Yoo-hoo? Space Case, ya there?" Derek waved a hand in front of her face. She swatted it away.

"Ah! It's alive!" he grinned. She didn't reply.

"Casey," he tried again. "What are you doing? Giving me the silent treatment? Are you mad at me about something?" Still no response. He darted in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, barring her from taking another step. He gave her a shake.

"Derek, please let go of me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, not until you tell me what's going on. I repeat: you mad at me or something? 'Cause I'm sorry about yesterday."

Casey finally sighed, relaxing her formerly rigid pose.

"No, Derek, I'm not mad at you," she said, looking him right in the eyes. "And I know perfectly well you're not in the least bit sorry about yesterday."

Derek grinned, releasing her shoulders and putting his hands in his pockets. He shrugged.

"You know me too well, then."

"Anyway," she said, starting to walk down the hall again. He walked beside her. "It doesn't really matter. You were just being _Derek_, and I've learned there's not much I can do about that." She rolled her eyes; he smirked. "I'm just trying to get through this last day, this last night, and then it'll be all over."

"Ah, I see you've given up your foolish dream of either one of us claiming the couch or—horror of horrors—the floor," he said. "Good. But what's got you so grumpy?"

"You mean besides the fact that the whole school thinks we're _sleeping together_?" Casey lowered her voice to a loud whisper on the last two words, as though they were dirty. For her, they probably were.

"But we are," he said, winking.

"Ugh." She stopped at her locker and opened it. He leaned casually against the one next to it.

"Anyway, yes, besides that," he said.

"Oh." She began putting her books away. "Um, nothing I guess…I'm just, you know, tired."

"No, you're not," he said, and his smirk grew even bigger. "You slept like a baby last night. I should know."

"I bet you do," Emily commented. She came up to join them, handing Casey a large textbook. "Here. You left this in the Chem lab."

"Thanks," Casey mumbled, shoving it in her bag. She stood up, slammed her locker shut, and ran off to class.

Derek raised his eyebrows at her retreating back. "What's up with her?"

Emily shrugged. "Nothing. I think she's just a little overwhelmed by the situation—I mean, three people already today have come up to her and made…_comments_ about your _comment_ yesterday."

"Oh." Derek stared off in the direction she had gone for a few seconds. Then he laughed.

"Man, that is priceless."

* * *

Casey showed up in Derek's room at ten sharp, clad in pajamas and wearing a smile. 

"Happy Thursday, Derek," she said cheerfully. He looked up and scooted over on the bed to make room.

"Who's the chipper one now?" he said, watching as she closed the door and sat down on the bed.

"Oh, I'm just glad tonight's the last night," she said, giving him a million-dollar smile. "I'll be even happier tomorrow night. Getting to sleep in my own bed."

"Admit it, though," he said, lifting the covers and getting beneath them, "my bed's more comfortable."

"Well—yes," Casey conceded, sighing. "Why _is_ that? Is it your sheets, your pillows, your mattress?" She looked about ready to pull apart the whole bed to discover the secret ingredient. To prevent any such thing from happening, Derek lifted the covers up as a sort of invitation for her to get beneath them. She did so.

"Goodnight, then," Casey said, settling in and fluffing her pillow. She laid her head down and closed her eyes, seeming content. She waited for him to turn off the lights.

"Derek?" she finally said, opening her eyes and looking at him. "Aren't you going to turn off the lamp?"

"Huh?" Derek shook his head. "Sorry. Zoned out. What'd you say?"

"Turn off the lights," Casey said very slowly, as though she were talking to a kindergartener. Or Derek Venturi. Which in her mind were apparently two very similar things.

"You're closer," he said, "do it yourself."

Rolling her eyes, Casey turned over in bed and reached an arm out to turn off the lights. Then there was silence as they both lay in bed and attempted to fall asleep.

* * *

"Derek," Casey whispered. She had been lying in bed for the past half hour, waiting for sleep to come, and it was still as far-off as it had been thirty-one minutes ago. "You awake?" 

"I am now," he grumbled sleepily. "Your whisper has the decibels of a foghorn."

"I'm cold," she whispered, trying to be quieter. "Can you close the window?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because I'm _cold_." She shivered. She considered having her teeth chatter, but thought that might be taking it a bit too far.

"No," he said. "I like the temperature just the way it is. Now go to sleep."

"But _Derek_," she said, not caring if she sounded whiny. "It's January, for goodness's sake. It's way too cold to have the window open."

"Not for me," he said stubbornly. "Don't like it, take the couch."

"Oh, I think we both know that's not going to happen," she muttered. "Been there, tried that, remember?"

"Fine. I don't care where you sleep, if you just _shut up_."

"But I can't sleep when it's this cold!" She was feeling cold enough to complain but warm enough that there was no way she was getting out of bed to go close the window or get another blanket. Which meant he'd obviously have to, if only he'd cooperate.

"Maybe you should buy warmer pajamas, then," he said. She could tell, even in the dark, that he was rolling his eyes. "Those pajama shorts looked as thin as toilet paper."

Casey flushed. "All my warmer pajamas are in the wash," she whispered fiercely. "And I'm cold."

"And you're annoying! Now that we've stated the obvious, can we _please_ move on? As in, go to sleep?"

She pouted into the silence. Then she realized that he had probably closed his eyes and was drifting right off to sleep, not being influenced by the power of a pout he could not see. So she tried sighing loudly. And tossing and turning a bit. And shivering some more, and throwing in some chattering teeth as well.

They didn't call her a drama queen for nothing.

Finally, when she was sighing and tossing and shivering all at once, he spoke.

"Casey? Could you _cut it out_? Or I'm going to have to banish you to the floor."

"You wouldn't," she gasped. "You couldn't! The bed belongs to me through tomorrow. I have complete control over it."

"Casey," he laughed softly. "If you had complete control, I'd be on the floor, wouldn't I?"

"Well…yes," she said. "But if you had complete control, I'd be on the floor too, wouldn't I?"

"How do you know I'm not just being nice?" he challenged.

"Because I haven't noticed any body-snatching aliens hanging around, lately."

Casey heard the rustling of sheets, and suddenly Derek was much nearer to her. She could feel his breath stir her hair, and his closeness suddenly made the black of the room seem even darker.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Keeping you warm." He sounded grumpy. The next thing she knew, his arms were wrapped around her and she was being held tight by Derek Venturi. Completely shocked though she was, she tried to relax in his arms.

"Better?" he asked a few moments later.

"Yes," she sighed, feeling much warmer. "Definitely."

* * *

**Yay! Sorry for the wait! Please review, lovlies! If there're any lurkers out there...(gives a very direct look) I'd love to hear what parts you liked! What lines, what scenes, what mental images...;)**


	6. Chapter 6: Friday

**A/N: Okay, so the early people who saw this chapter read my author's note, with the ginormous apology for this update taking so long (it got deleted from my computer, writer's block, I got grounded, etc.) but then I fixed something in the chapter and the author's note was lost. So I'm super super sorry for that.**

**Also, there's been confusion, so take note: THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER. THERE WILL BE NO MORE UPDATES. And I really don't care for begging and pleading, the story is done, so please don't try to convince me to change my mind; I won't listen.**

**Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews; they make me so happy! I'd love to hear more from you (especially the ones I haven't heard from; I still get alerts when somebody favorites my story or something, and I usually like to see a review along with that!), what parts and lines and scenes and chapters you liked (or didn't like, but please no flames). Thanks again!**

* * *

Friday

Derek awoke feeling very content. And warm. Almost as though he were snuggled up with Mr. Bear again. His eyes still closed, he planted a soft kiss on the top of Mr. Bear's head.

"Derek," Mr. Bear murmured.

"Yes, Mr. Bear?" he said sleepily.

"Huh?"

Wait. Derek's eyes flew open. Mr. Bear couldn't _talk_.

Oh. Riiiiiiiiight. Casey.

"What did you call me?" He was sure he could hear a giggle behind her sleepy whisper.

"Uh, nothing." Now that his wits were coming back to him, he realized they were in the exact same position that they had fallen asleep in. Funny how they could fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed and wake up close together, but to fall asleep close together and wake up the same way? Ridiculous.

Derek unwrapped his stiff arms from around her and stretched.

"Did you just wake up?" he murmured.

"About the same time you did," Casey said. She looked as if she wanted to pursue the Mr. Bear issue, but thankfully she dropped it.

"Hmm," Derek said noncommittally. He sat up, completely ending his embrace with Casey. She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock as he yawned.

"We'd better get up," she said, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs off of the bed. "Otherwise George or Mom will be up to get us."

"Right," Derek said. The window was still blowing in a soft breeze, so he got up to close it. "That is pretty cold," he commented.

"Oh, _now_ you tell me," Casey said irritably. Derek laughed.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Derek called from next to window. With a groan, Casey flopped right back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

"You kids coming down for breakfast?" Nora asked. "It's a little late."

"We're coming, Mom," Casey said. They heard Nora's footsteps get fainter and disappear.

"But you're not," Derek said, amused. He leaned against the window, crossed his arms, and raised his eyebrows at Casey. She didn't move an inch.

"Leavemelone," Casey muttered, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.

"What, just a few seconds ago you were all 'Let's get up, la de de da da…' What's changed? Somebody's cranky," he sang. "C'mon, Spacey. Up and at 'ems."

"Goway."

"_Non._" He walked across the room and stood over her, crossing his arms and mock-glaring like a menacing policeman. When that failed to illicit a response, he grabbed her legs and attempted to drag her off the bed.

"Derek, _geroff_," Casey moaned. Still not opening her eyes, she grabbed at the comforter beneath her and tried to kick him off.

"You're just being dramatic," he said, letting go of her legs and starting to tickle her feet. "You're not really tired. Or cranky. You've just realized it's been—gosh, a couple of hours since you've pulled a primadonna?"

In spite of herself, Casey started giggling uncontrollably. She always had been absurdly ticklish.

"Stop, stop," she practically shrieked. She opened her eyes at last and attempted to sit up, but he just grabbed one of her legs and pulled, causing her to fall back on the bedspread.

"Okay already, I'm getting up!" He just tickled her feet more. She was trying to sit up and glare at him but kept collapsing back onto the bed, practically cackling.

"No, you're not!" he yelled over her giggles. "Slowpoke." She tried kicking him again, weaker this time, and he took both of her legs and with one giant tug pulled her off the bed. They both toppled onto the floor in a pile of breathless laughter.

"Derek," Casey said between wheezes, as they disentangled themselves and stood up, brushing off, "did we just have an actual fun, non-fighting moment or am I dreaming?"

"Oh, is this the stuff your dreams are made of?" he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. His face grew solemn.

"Yeah, we did. This never leaves this room, okay? Stays between us. We will never talk about this again, because this never happened. We've got a rep to keep, you know."

"You are so full of it," Casey muttered. "Fine." She held out her hand for him to shake. Derek spit in his hand and went to grasp hers, but she wrenched it away just in time.

"Ew," she said. "That's disgusting. You'll just have to take my word for it."

She left the room, making sure to bump hard into his shoulder on the way out.

* * *

"Casey!" Derek yelled in the crowded hallways of J.S. Thompson High School. What was it with him always talking to her in school these days?

"Um, you're being called," Emily said. They were standing by Casey's locker at the end of lunch period, and Derek was waving madly from the staircase, trying to get her attention.

"Am I?" Casey dug her cell out of her pocket. "Nope, doesn't seem so."

"Very funny. Why don't you just go over there and see what he wants?"

"Because," Casey said. Derek evidently decided it would be easier just to go to her, and he pulled up to her locker just as she said, "I've got a rep to keep."

"Hey, Casey," Derek said, ignoring the fact that his own words had just been used against him. "What pajamas did I wear last night?"

"What?" she said, so caught off guard she forgot she was supposed to be ignoring him.

"What did I wear to bed last night?" he repeated, with a completely straight face.

"_Why_?" she asked, not for the life of her able to figure out why he had come up to her at school to ask her _that_.

"Because Mark was talking about how he'd spilled ketchup on the shirt he wore to bed last night but because the shirt was red, you couldn't see it, and then that kind of led to other people talking about spills and shirts and now the conversation is on what we wore to bed last night and I can't remember," he said, speaking quickly so he could get back to his friends.

"Oh, of course," Casey said, turning back to her locker and rolling her eyes. "I should have guessed." She made a mental note never to talk to any of Derek's friends besides Ralph and Sam.

"So?" he said, poking her in the side. "Do you remember?"

"You wore that white long-sleeved cotton shirt with the green sleeves and your green and blue plaid pajama pants," she said without turning.

"Great, thanks," he said, and sprinted away back to the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, Casey slammed her locker shut and turned to face Emily.

"Do you see what I have to put up with?" she said, her voice bordering on hysterical.

"You seemed to remember what he wore pretty well, though," Emily smirked.

"How could I _not_? My face was pressed up against that shirt all night!"

"Ooh la la," Emily joked, but under her breath, because she _really_ didn't want to risk the wrath of Casey.

* * *

"Casey, I'm going to pick your mattress up from the cleaner's," Nora told her daughter as she picked up her keys and put on her coat after school.

"Okay," Casey said, fixing herself an after-school snack of carrot sticks. Derek walked into the room, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.

"Urgh, rabbit food," he said of her snack choices, then reached over and grabbed about half of her carrots.

"Hey!" she protested, but he had already shoved them all in his mouth.

"Oh, Derek, I'm going out so we should double," Nora said, looking frantically for her purse until Casey pointed to it sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds good," Derek said through a mouthful of carrots. He gave Casey a very orange grin before following his stepmother into the garage.

"Ew," she muttered under her breath, making do with the five carrots she had left.

As soon as she was done eating, Casey rinsed her plate and went upstairs. She had the house to herself; Edwin and Lizzie were at some birthday party (they seemed to attend a lot of those), George was at work, and Marti was at Dimi's. Casey stifled a yawn as she passed Derek's room to enter her own.

The sight of her bed-less room still gave a little shock to her system when she entered. It looked so…empty. She'd actually been spending more time in Derek's room than in her own these past few days.

Casey clicked around on the computer aimlessly for a few minutes. She'd finished all her homework in the catch-up period her math teacher had granted the class that day, and none of her teachers would agree to give a straight-A student unnecessary extra credit or any upcoming assignments in advance. And she'd asked them all. What was she supposed to _do_ if not homework?

Casey yawned again as she stared at her computer screen, bored and tired. What with that infernal window being open, it had taken her much longer to fall asleep than usual last night, although once she had gotten warm sleep had come very quickly. Still, she hadn't gotten her required eight hours. Most teenagers probably didn't; she knew Derek usually slid by on six, but Casey had always liked to be as refreshed as possible.

A nap couldn't hurt.

Then, of course, she remembered she didn't have a bed. _Then_ she remembered Derek wasn't home.

Casey snuck out of her bedroom as though the whole house was infested with spies even though she knew perfectly well no one was home but her. She darted into Derek's room and very quietly closed the door.

With a contented sigh, she crawled beneath the covers and closed her eyes. Burrowing deeper into the bed, she fell asleep quite quickly with a smile on her face.

* * *

"Derek, could you please help me carry Casey's mattress inside?" Nora asked as Derek climbed out of the car, leaving his hockey equipment inside.

"Uh…" Derek said. He was not in a particularly good mood. Hockey practice had been canceled due to the coach being out with a "stomach virus". As though that were any excuse.

"Oh, look," he said as another car pulled into the garage. "Dad's home, he can help you." Before she had a chance to protest, Derek had scampered out of the garage and into the house.

Well, just because hockey practice was canceled didn't mean his day was totally ruined. What he really needed was just to relax on his bed, grab _Sports Illustrated_ and crank some tunes. Then, his internal battery recharged, he could go downstairs and happily heckle Casey for the rest of the evening.

Derek opened the door to his room and stopped dead, staring. Then, slowly, a grin started to creep over his face.

"Why hello, Goldilocks," he murmured, going from irritation to amusement in seconds.

Derek softly closed the door and contemplated the sleeping form in his bed. How to best go about this? Pour ice-cold water on her head? Plug in his electric guitar right next to her ear? Jump on the bed? Maybe he should open that "Ways to Annoy Casey" folder on his computer to look for ideas…

She was stirring. He hadn't much time to humiliate her.

He leaned down super close, so his lips were practically touching her ear. He whispered:

"Somebody's been sleeping in my BED!" He yelled the last word, and she sat straight up with a shriek, eyes wide open. He laughed, clutching his sides.

"Priceless," he managed to choke out.

"Derek?" Casey looked completely disoriented, staring wildly about her. She also looked disheveled, not having changed out of her school clothes when she got in his bed.

"I…what…um…" she stammered. He composed himself, grinning as she struggled to say something.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked casually, as though he walked into his room to find her sleeping in his bed every day.

"Sorry," she muttered, staring down at the comforter, her cheeks bright red. "I was tired."

"So you decided to take a nap in _my _bed," he said, smirking.

"Well, mine wasn't available, as you very well know!"

"And Lizzie's? And Marti's? Dad and Nora's? Even Edwin's? I suppose _those_ beds weren't available either?"

"Oh." Casey turned, if possible, an even darker shade of red. "Well. I didn't think of that."

"Of course you didn't." Really. She was so easy to smirk at.

"Anyway," she said defensively. "Your bed's so comfortable. And aren't you supposed to be at hockey practice?" She finally looked him in the eye, one part defiance to two parts humiliation.

"Canceled," he informed her. "As is, I'm afraid, your nap. Your mattress is back, by the way."

"Oh," she said, looking back down at the comforter and running her hand over it. "Okay." She didn't make a move to leave.

Derek crossed his arms, waiting for her to get up. Moments passed. He sighed.

"Glued to the sheets?" he asked. A brief smile flitted across her face.

"No." She still didn't look up. Still didn't move.

"Well," he said slowly. "Then may I inquire as to why you have not left?"

"You may."

"I am!" he said, frustrated.

"Right." She looked up, finally, and sighed, a sort of self-exasperated smile on her mouth. "This sounds stupid, but I'm just thinking about how tonight my bed is going to feel really hard and cold in comparison. So I'm trying to put off leaving your bed."

He softened somewhat—after being forced to sleep on the floor that first night, he well understood the importance of a soft place to lay one's head—but didn't want her to think he was going weak, so he disguised his sudden sympathy with (you guessed it) a smirk.

"Well, tear yourself away from my pillows, keep the tears to a minimum, and"—he motioned toward the door—"shoo."

"Fine," Casey said, and picked up one of his pillows and held it in her lap. "I'll miss you," she sighed, and planted a kiss on it.

"Nevermind, you can keep it," he said, crinkling his nose in mock-disgust. She laughed and finally stood up. She walked past him and opened the door.

"Casey," he said. He was still looking at the bed; she turned to look at him, one foot out the door.

"Hmm?"

He would never in his life understand what possessed him to say what he said next.

"If you want…Feel free to come back and visit the pillows any time."

There was a very long silence. At last Derek looked at her—she was looking thoughtful.

"You know," she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "I may just take you up on that."

She left the room and closed the door smartly behind her. Then, a second later, she opened it again and stuck her head into the room.

"But only for the pillows," she said, before giving him a devilish grin and leaving.

* * *

**BWAHAHA...I couldn't resist adding a little Dasey-ness to the end. ;) Well, that certainly has been a ride! I hope you enjoyed my (now completed) story, and I'd love love love your reviews!**


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